We all of us are things forgotten still clinging to memory. Immortality. The great and universal human ambition. Promised ever and anon by the mystic words of prophets and sages, whose very sight hath pierced the veil twixt death and everlife. Sought after by philosophers and surgeons, greedy grasping for elixirs and potions that may prolong mortality by weeks, days, even precious and fleeting seconds. It may be that the king, the historian, and the artist can rightly claim to having mastered immortality. For though their fleeting flesh perishes and withers into dust, their deeds and doings ring through the…
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Niggle was a painter. Not a very successful one… Of all Tolkien’s works, arguably none of them lend themselves so readily to analysis as Leaf by Niggle. The allegory by the man who claimed to hate allegory. A touchingly close examination of a character who may be as close as Tolkien ever came to writing a self-insert. Even, arguably, Tolkien’s most religious and theological work (of his fictional tales, that is…On Fairy Stories is, of course, Tolkien’s theological triumph). As such, Leaf by Niggle is probably the Lesser Tale in least need of yet another analysis, especially one by a…
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I’ve been thinking a lot about narrative ‘canon’ recently. I’ve also written and rewritten this blog post a couple of times, to try and make sure I…
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I saw the new Matrix film the other day, and, though this blog is most assuredly not a review site, it does seem to tend towards a site about story-telling…
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Of all the arts, dance might be the one I most struggle to engage with. I’ve watched and tolerated various forms of ballroom and/or competitive dance and…
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